Page 29 of Grumpy on the Mountain

"The town cleans up nice after a storm," he admits. "Folks here know how to handle the seasons."

"Unlike me," I laugh, gesturing to my completely impractical footwear.

His eyes flick to my feet, then back to the road. "You'll learn."

It's oddly comforting that he assumes I'll be around long enough to adapt. I haven't really thought about it yet.

As we approach the main street, I notice people turning to look at our truck. Some wave. Others nudge their companions and whisper.

"Just so you know… People will talk," Beau warns, his voice low. "It's a small town, and they're not exactly used to seeing me around. Plus, they don't have much by the way of gossip, so they're like leaches the moment something happens."

"Let them talk," I say with more confidence than I feel. "I've survived worse than gossip."

We pull up outside a weathered building with a wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze.Timber Tavern.

Through frost-edged windows, I can see the silhouettes of people inside. It looks busy, and Beau comes around to my side of the truck to open my door. He offers his hand as I navigate the step down, his body radiating heat in the cold evening air.

It's a really nice start to the night, but the moment we push through the tavern door, all conversation stops.

Literally stops.

Like someone hit a mute button on the entire room.

Dozens of eyes swing our way, widening as they take in the sight of Beau Callahan, apparently the town hermit, with a woman.

The tavern is everything I imagined a mountain establishment would be. Wooden beams overhead hung with vintage lanterns, a massive stone fireplace crackling with huge logs, the rich scents of smoke and grilled meat hanging in the air. Tables made from split tree trunks are filled with locals, all of whom are now staring at us with interest.

I resist the urge to hide behind Beau's broad shoulders.

A man with ruggedly handsome features and kind eyes approaches, wiping his hands on a towel tucked into his jeans.

"Well, well. If it isn't Beau Callahan emerging from hibernation."

"Charlie," Beau nods, his face impassive as he shakes the mans hand in that oddly masculine way Riley could never pull off.

Charlie's gaze shifts to me, a smile spreading across his face. "And with company. Our beautiful world truly is full of wonders."

"We'll take a table, Charlie," Beau grunts. "My usual corner, if it's free."

Charlie's eyebrows rise at the demand, but his smile doesn't falter. "Follow me."

He leads us to an intimate booth in the far corner of the room. I notice how Beau positions himself with his back to the wall, eyes sweeping the room in what seems like an unconscious assessment before he sits.

Old military habit, I guess.

"Your usual?" Charlie asks Beau, who nods once.

Charlie turns to me with a wink. "And for the lady... I think we need something special."

Before I can respond, he's striding back toward the bar, leaving me and Beau in a bubble of awkward silence.

"So," I begin, desperately searching for a conversation starter as I try to ignore the weight of dozens of stares burning into my back. "Come here often?"

The corner of Beau's mouth twitches.

"Occasionally." His eyes scan the room again, and I catch the barest hint of discomfort in the way his shoulders tense. "Usually for takeout."

"Ah, the Beau special," I tease, trying to lighten the mood. "Let me guess… you have them package it in a plain brown bag so no one knows you're actually eating something other than what you've hunted yourself?"